


Prison Food

by celestialcollectionaus19



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), Orange is the New Black
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Prison, Gen, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Incest, Not Canon Compliant, One Shot, Prison, Sansa is Piper, Sexual Content, Walder Frey is a woman, Women's Prison, mentions of relationships - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 08:30:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6072235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celestialcollectionaus19/pseuds/celestialcollectionaus19
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa Stark sold a pouch of cocaine four years ago, for her girlfriend. When Margaery is arrested as one of the major dealers in an international drug cartel, Sansa gets caught up in the mess and ends up in prison. On her first day, she's served more than food at breakfast.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prison Food

**Author's Note:**

> One-shot. Only GOT/ASOIAF characters. Based on the overall premise of Orange is the New Black.

Sansa felt like she was in high school again. Trying to not nibble at her nails, she shuffled forward slowly and waited for the cafeteria workers to dump lumps of grey porridge into her plate. "Eat up, sweetling," said a scraggly old lady whose sour expression soon turned into a leer. "Heh. _Heh_." When Sansa didn't immediately move, she snapped her bony fingers and hissed, "Keep movin', kid. You stupid or something?" And she cackled again. Her raspy voice sent chills down Sansa's spine. 

The next lunch lady was more friendly, not to mention attractive. "Don't mind Frey," she said with a shrug. "She's on her eighth prison wife, so you're safe for now. I'm Martell. Here, have some yogourt." She handed her a cup of expired strawberry yogourt. 

Sansa tried to tell her so, but Martell shook her head. "Sorry, we've got nothing else here. Next!" 

"Baratheon," said the young girl with curly blonde hair who pressed a juice box in her hands. "Me and Martell are part of the Spice Girls. Don't try to sit with us. We don't take just anyone." 

"Yeah, there's only five of us," said Martell. "But Obara's getting released soon. I'm sure she won't mind if you take her place. There can't be four Spice Girls. Blackwater would fall apart." 

Sansa nodded and left the line. Her stomach was churning as she scanned the tables and their occupants. To her left, a woman with scarlet hair led other inmates in prayer; next to them, a few dark-skinned girls chattered in some Eastern language. To her right, she saw a group of women with unruly hair glowering at her. One even growled at her as she passed, something like "Southron bitch!" She was tempted to laugh at the absurdity and reply that she was Northern through and through, but her hands were shaking too hard. 

"Hey, come sit with us!" 

Greyjoy was waving at her. She quickly dashed to her table and sat down next to her. "You're so damn slow," Greyjoy complained. She gestured to Sansa, then turned to her friends. "This is Stark. Stark, here's Targaryen and Reed." 

"Hi," said Sansa hesitantly. 

Targaryen threw her mane of silvery blonde hair over her shoulder. "What're you in here for, Stark?" She raised a tattoed eyebrow and laughed. "You sure you're not supposed to be in school? You look awfully young." 

Greyjoy snorted. "You're not ancient either, Targaryen." She turned to Sansa. "She started fucking this gang leader when she was thirteen. Ended up here 'cuz she burned up a house trying to shoot up with powdered 'dragon eggs'. Targaryen, we all know it was crack. Admit it." 

"No, they were dragon eggs," said Targaryen, staring intently at her mouldy bread. "You think I can't tell the difference between dragon and crack?" 

Reed laughed. "Targaryen's too stuck up for crack," she said. "No, she does dragon eggs instead. So sophisticated." 

"As if you'd know, wildling," shot back Targaryen. She crossed her arms. "And I'm clean now." 

Sansa looked quizzically at Greyjoy. "Reed's usually with the wildlings," said the black-haired woman, "but she had a fight with Osha, again." 

"They're always having some kind of lesbian drama," said Targaryen, rolling her eyes. 

Reed looked like she wanted to stab the two of them with her fork. "Well, Targaryen," she said irritably. "You're only clean because of Olenna. We all know you're still a fucking junkie at heart." 

"Oh, here she comes," said Greyjoy before the blonde girl could reply. She called out, "Hey, Olenna! Come meet one of our newbies!" 

An older woman in an apron strode briskly towards their table. "So you're the new girl that Greyjoy's been talking about," she said with her arms crossed. "Hmm. How do you like the food?" She stared at Sansa expectantly.  

She's the chef, Sansa realized. She smiled and said, "I like the porridge."  

Olenna raised her eyebrows and stared at Sansa until she looked away. "Lannister said you looked like some stupid little dove, but you're clearly not. Not gutsy enough, though." She addressed her next words to Greyjoy. "Tell her I want the truth next time. Until then, keep her." She walked away. 

Sansa wasn't sure if she should continue eating or not. 

Greyjoy held up her hand for a high five. "You passed," she said. "We should celebrate." 

Reed scowled at her. "If you think I'm gonna go beg Martell for her Dornish red again-" 

"Nah, it's Targaryen's turn." 

Targaryen glared at them. "Lannister still owes us a drink after stealing Olenna's Arbor gold." 

"Lannister is Merryweather's little pet," explained Greyjoy to Sansa. "Merryweather's the one who drove you here." 

Targaryen leaned in. "And Lannister thinks that Merryweather is her pet, because she tells her the latest gossip and fucks her from time to time in the showers, but little does she suspect that Merryweather actually reports to Olenna." 

Sansa wanted to know if Olenna was the cook's surname or not, since everybody here seemed to go by last name.  

"No, Olenna's just that important," said Greyjoy. "No one fucks with Olenna, not even Littlefinger-" 

"That's Mr. Baelish for you," said Reed. "Assistant warden." 

"Fucking hate him and his greasy little moustache," said Targaryen. 

Sansa was going to inquire further about him when a shadow loomed over them. 

"Everything fine over here, ladies?" 

Greyjoy muttered, "It would be if you got the fuck out of our faces." 

Jaime Lannister smirked. "What was that, Greyjoy?" 

"Nothing." Greyjoy smiled tightly. "I was just wishing you a good day, Lannister." 

Lannister didn't look convinced, but he moved on. 

"He's so hot," sighed Targaryen. 

Greyjoy laughed. "Not while he's still fucking Lannister." 

"They're not brother and sister, don't worry," Targaryen assured Sansa. "Distant cousins, some shit like that. Good enough for me. I'd have a threesome with them if Lannister didn't act like she owned this place." 

"Isn't that illegal, to be with a CO?" The words flew out of Sansa's mouth before she could stop herself. Stupid, she thought. You're already in prison.  

Reed chortled. "No one gives a shit, Stark." She pointed to a redhead sitting next to the window. "See that girl there? That's Ygritte. She bangs Snow - that mopey-looking bastard over there - in the supply closet." 

"And I'm pretty sure Littlefinger, well, fingers girls in his office," said Targaryen with some disgust. "No one's going to report him, anyway, because of his position. You'd have to be fucking crazy." 

Sansa must have gaped at them, because Greyjoy patted her on the back and said, "Welcome to Blackwater Penitentiary, Stark. It's gonna be a long couple of years, so you better sit back and enjoy the crazy while it lasts." 

 

 


End file.
